


Nice Work (If You Can Get It)

by becisvolatile



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky is a bit of a dick, Darcy Lewis is surprisingly okay with being paid for sex, F/M, Frottage, OFC Flashback, OT3, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Sex for Money, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeur!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:19:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becisvolatile/pseuds/becisvolatile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two obscenely attractive men wanted to pay her for sex and she was throwing a fit over it? Darcy’s principles covered telling women when their skirts were tucked into their panties, always paying her share of split bills and never settling for decaf, they got a little confused when it came to downloading media and being paid for sex that she kind of wanted to have anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Work (If You Can Get It)

_Steve’s last pencil was down to a nub not much longer than his thumb, but he meant to put it to good use. The sketchbook on his knee was brittle and coffee stained, but that too was his last one. Over on the bed Bucky and young, plump Brigette were rolling in threadbare, sun bleached sheets growling and nipping at each other playfully._

_Of the girls they’d shared, Brigette was his favourite, lush and pink with coffee-dark hair she was quick to smile and had curves that left both him_ and _Bucky wishing for an extra pair of hands._

_“You will come to bed, no?”_

_Steve just smiled down at his sketch, tracing the curve of Bucky’s out-turned knee. Brigette’s near-perfect use of English was one of her many draws, she had proven an excellent French tutor for both of them. Though questions were still being raised as to why Bucky could wax poetic about a woman’s breasts in French for hours, but struggled to ask which way a convoy had gone._

_A pillow smacked into his front, sending the remnants of his pencil rolling under the bed. With a lazy smile, Steve set his sketchbook aside and turned his attention to the bed, where Bucky was losing himself in a tangle of sheets and woman. “He’s probably too tired from the scouting mission to be of any use to us, Honey. Ain’t that right kid?”_

_“On va voir,” Steve drawled, winning him a proud smile from Brigette, who opened her arms for her student and beckoned him onto the bed._

 

~*~

 

Darcy Lewis was that shitty sort of four-drinks-drunk that wasn’t really drunk at all, but just socially lubricated enough to make some bad calls.

…and Mr ‘Just Call Me James’ was shaping up to be one of the worst calls she’s ever made. Darcy was a little worried she was being easy and wondered if perhaps there was a reason for that. Her thing with Ian had wound up pretty quickly. Tuned out that apocalyptic situations did not make for solid foundations when it came to relationships. Ian had declared Darcy to be ‘too much’ for him. Though he never did say what she was ‘too much’ _of_.

Sure, she was a little bitter about making the trek all the way over to the Stark precinct for dinner with Jane, only to be stood up _30 minutes after_ their agreed meeting time. She’d been determined not to waste the trip and resolutely sat herself down at a quiet wine bar to choke down a few glasses of their house red. _Of course_ she would have stood out. A woman drinking alone, comfortable in a denim skirt and oversized knit sweater (far removed from the work attire of SI’s horde) and scowling into her wine. She must have painted up on James’s radar as easy pickings. 

… and all he had to do was walk in with his artfully dishevelled self, unwashed hair just the right side of ‘drug addict’ and _that face._ So what if he wore that one leather glove? Darcy had spent six months defending the sartorial leanings of a boyfriend who’d sworn that cravats were going through a revival. Even with all that and a gut full of wine she’d been determined to turn down his thickly spoken advances. 

It wasn’t that James had seemed _wrong_ per se, just a little off. There was an unsettling familiarity about him, as if she were meant to know him from somewhere (even though she’d bet her entire NIN back catalogue that they’d never shared air before). Then there was the way that he’d narrow his eyes as if searching an internal database for words before speaking and even then the words, the syntax, were just… _off._

It would have been so easy to shrug off the general advances of just some normal guy, but this one wasn't normal and he’d shown an attentiveness - no, _focus_ \- that left Darcy feeling giddy. Other more attractive women loitered on the sidelines, their thin laughs trying to draw his dark, hooded eyes but he didn’t budge. There was something almost old-fashioned in the way that he settled on her, body angled to her as he nursed - but didn’t drink - his imported beer. It was almost a novelty to be sitting with a guy who wasn’t scanning the crowd for a better option.

When he’d offered her a few beers at his place she nearly applauded that he had managed to smooth himself out enough to work up to it and, yeah, _of course_ she was going home with him. She was a big girl, she had her prettiest panties on and _he_ had eyes like Valentino.

It wasn’t like anyone else was ever going to know.

 

~*~

 

When Bucky had gone out and promised to ‘bring something back’ for him Steve had been hoping for a cheeseburger. 

With Bucky things were never that simple.

Steve quickly forgot about the cheeseburger when he heard those first few feminine gasps coming from the living room. It was unsettling to think that Bucky had picked up a woman, he wasn’t fully acclimatised to the world they’d both woken up to. Had Bucky found himself an _escort_? Worse, had he found himself a perfectly normal girl who wasn’t ready for the assortment of fractures that Bucky’s psyche had to offer?

Steve threw back his comforter and dragged on the sweatpants he’d left hanging over the foot of his bed. He moved quietly from his room and down the short corridor, cloaked by the dark and the preoccupation of the couple tangled on the sofa. From where he stood, still just beyond the living room, he could see how Bucky had angled himself over the small frame of the woman. She was a robust thing, all lovely milky limbs, dark hair and throaty moans. Steve watched on, not ready to interrupt as Bucky palmed one of her knees and spread her thighs as he shifted her hips, displaying her perfectly for Steve. It was then that he knew Bucky was well aware that he was watching. 

He knew it was time to call a halt to Bucky’s ridiculous game of chicken. _Past time._ The girl had no idea she was being watched, had no idea how her short breaths and sweet moans were stretching a little further than she intended. Steve meant to speak up, truly.

But then there was Bucky, yanking her violet lace panties down her legs, leaving them hooked on one slim ankle as his hand swept back up the curve of her calf and along the inside of her thigh. Steve gripped the doorframe overhead as he leaned half out of the shadow of the hall and watched on as Bucky’s flesh and blood hand stroked and coaxed apart the soft, plump lips of her pussy. 

Their late-night visitor moaned softly as Bucky circled his thumb over her clit, glossy red nails digging into his shoulders as she moaned. “ _Shit…_ ” The profanity sounded sweet as it tumbled from her lips, there was surprise in the way her eyes widened, as if she hadn’t expected Bucky to be so skilled. “I could…” Her fingers glanced across Bucky’s belt buckle, but he swept her hand away, his focus solely on keeping her legs spread wide and his fingers working her further into her own arousal.

“Not yet, Doll,” Bucky’s voice was set to a low growl, “Got plans.”

If _she_ had plans to protest, they were quickly abandoned as Bucky sank one finger into her, his lips dancing over her exposed shoulder as he continued to stroke her. 

The doorframe groaned a little underneath his grip and Steve paused to take a breath and palm his stiffening cock in irritation. He was reminded of the women they’d shared long ago, but only in a fleeting way. He had an artists’ appreciation of the female form that identified and adored the points of difference between the women. This one’s waist dipped in tighter, her skirt was pushed up past her hips to reveal firm thighs and she moved with a nervous energy that spoke of passion and excitement, tempered with nerves. The women they’d shared, almost all of them French, moved with the lethargy of learned women for whom all things came in good time. This girl’s body stuttered and rolled, moving toward a goal she wasn’t wholly sure of.

Her hips jerked up off the sofa as Bucky dared to slip a second finger alongside the first, stroking and coaxing until it had slid into her, testing and working her pussy. Steve leaned in even further, greedily taking in the sight - there was no doubt that Bucky was doing this for his benefit. Bucky slowly parted his fingers, just a fraction, and Steve admired the deep pink hues of her tight passage.

Her gasp was cut off as a loud cracking noise shot out above him and a small dusting of plaster rained down on his head, making his presence very obvious to the girl on the sofa. Steve watched, chest tight, as she batted Bucky’s hands away and tried to simultaneously set her clothes right and scramble from the sofa.

“-the _fuck_ is going on?!” She shrieked, asking but not inviting an answer, as she groped behind the sofa for her purse. 

Steve blinked down at the mangled panel of wood in his hands, he shuffled his bare feet then lowered it just enough to hide his obvious erection and the even more obvious stain of pre-come that had collected on the front of his sweats. “Miss, I ah… I was just. Kitchen?”

The force of her disbelieving snort was such that she actually had to stop what she was doing to adequately convey just how much she wasn’t buying his BS. She was paused halfway through the motions of trying to jam one of her feet back into a shoe. “Look, Buddy,” she turned back toward where Bucky was just lounging on the sofa - seemingly unruffled - “I don’t know what kind of good time you had in mind, but usually you give a girl a bit of warning before trying to trap her into a - a _gang bang._ ” Steve wasn’t entirely certain what constituted a ‘gang bang’, but he felt confident that it’d take a little more than just Bucky and his combined efforts.

“Would it be so bad?” Bucky drawled with a nod to the impressive expanse of Steve’s chest, gleaming as it was with the beginnings of a nervous sweat.

She stumbled then, her feet catching on nothing in particular as she stopped for the first time to regard Steve. Her full chest pressed against the knit of her sweater as she breathed heavily, still flushed with arousal.

“Whaddaya say, Danny?” 

Her face shuttered closed as she hitched her purse a little higher on her shoulder, dropped her head and made a hasty exit from the apartment. “Your friend is a _jerk,_ ” she hissed at Steve as she shouldered her way past him toward the door. There was a brief scuffle as she tried to slam it on her way out, got her purse stuck, cursed, then finally managed to make her escape.

“Smooth,” commented Bucky as he stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of Steve.

“You ambushed that girl,” Steve snapped as he tossed the scrap of wood aside.

“Wanted her for us.”

Steve sighed, “Pick another, maybe one we can pay to be a little more agreeable.”

The promise of a pout fell across Bucky’s mouth as he lifted the two slick fingers that he’d used to pet their pretty guest up to Steve’s lips and traced them, leaving a sheen of her arousal there. Steve hesitated, then let his tongue chase her taste around his lips. He didn’t paused when Bucky held up his fingers again, he just leaned in and sucked them clean of the taste of her.

“I want _her_ ,” Bucky asserted as Steve flicked his tongue along his index finger.

“Danny, you said?” Steve murmured as he cast a thoughtful glance at the door.

“Might’ve been Dotty.”

 

~*~

 

 _Danny_?! Really?

 _Really_?

Darcy slammed down the pot of coffee a little forcefully, yanked a cloth from where she’d tucked it into her apron ties and attacked the already clean counter. Four a.m. wasn’t rush hour at the all-night diner where she’d managed to pick up a few steady shifts. The diner wasn’t exactly a dive, but it was the sort of place the you _ended up_ at, rather than make the conscious decision to go to. Still, it boasted free wi-fi, decent coffee and a decor this side of the year 2000. They even had the distinction of being a diner that baked their own desserts, rather than buying them from suppliers. Vance, their short-order cook, was in the kitchen taking care of the day’s baking and the two waitresses on morning shift weren’t due for another hour, so Darcy was left to swing between the students and miscellaneous strung-out folk with a pot of coffee and make preparations for the breakfast crowd.

She had a good hour and a bit until things started to pick up and the guy in the corner reciting slam poetry (for absolutely no one) had suggested she looked a little ‘turrrnt up’, whatever the fuck that meant. She took it as a cue to lean heavily against the counter and pour herself a cup of coffee, then drown it in creamer.

‘Turnt up’? Unlikely. Turned on? Youbetcha. Darcy was still strung-out from a lust-fuelled haze that had been going on for 26 hours and counting. She’d beat feet after her nasty little shock with ‘Just James’ and paid for a cab home, one that she really couldn’t afford. That morning she’d dropped into the advocacy centre where she volunteered in hope of gaining enough cred to get a grown-up job, then she’d spent the afternoon napping fitfully in preparation for her night shift.

If she’d had any sense she’d have enlisted her hot pink, battery-operated, online special to help her burn away the remnant lust from her episode with ‘Mr Tall, Dark and Good With His Hands’ and - if she wasn't mistaken - _Captain Freakin’ America._

She _knew_ she should’ve pulled the cord on that one when she’d realised that James was steering her from the wine bar back toward Stark Tower, but his hand had been warm and familiar on the small of her back, stroking gently as they’d waited at lights to cross the road. At one point she’d reached for his wrist and frowned at how hard it had felt under his hand. “Prosthetic”, he’d explained while searching her face for a recoil or disgust and she’s just smiled broadly and grabbed his heavy hand. It wasn’t like it had made a damn bit of difference, the man had been _good_ with his other hand and it wasn’t until she’d spotted their audience that things had gone south.

Darcy frowned down at her coffee, hip propped against the counter as she considered her miserable state. She’d been worked over _so well,_ but her overworked vibrator wasn’t going to satisfy. Her pocket rocket was one Hell of a trusty bro, but it didn’t have James’s wicked, dark eyes or Steve’s broad, bronzed chest.

“Coffee?” A deep, all-too-familiar voice asked and Darcy’s shoulders slumped. She shoved forward her own half-empty cup of coffee as _Steve Rogers_ settled on a stool in front of her. He took his time sipping at the lukewarm brew.

“Sweet,” he noted as he set it down.

“The sugar keeps me going through the shift.”

“Busy night?”

“You here for a reason?”

“You.” Darcy looked up, her eyes catching his intense gaze. She felt the impulse to tug at the hem of her denim skirt, only to remember that she wore jeans to work.

Nope. _Nope._ She wasn’t going to play. “Not on the menu, dude.”

He sucked in a fortifying breath, “Then I guess I’ll take the German apple cake.”

Darcy had to remind herself that it meant _nothing_ that he’d picked her own favourite menu item, she turned away to fill his order, strolling between the plates and the the display case before returning and trying to pass off the cake mid-stride. He snagged her wrist, pulling her to a stop. “ _Please,_ ” his voice was a low rumble, “I came to talk.”

His grip on her wrist was firm, Darcy looked around the diner. The other patrons went about chewing cold fries and sucking down their coffee, paying them no attention.

“I won’t leave until we talk.”

“Ugh,” Darcy planted her hands on the counter and squared her shoulders. “Then _talk._ ”

“Okay, I - uh. First, my name is Steve Ro-”

“Funnily enough, you can skip that bit, _Cap._ ”

“Just Steve, please.”

“Just Steve and Just James,” Darcy noted in a dry tone.

“Bucky.”

“Jesus, he lied about that?”

“No,” Steve held up his hands to calm her, “It _is_ James. But I call him Bucky, a lot of people do. How’s your history?”

“I spent high school hooking up in the stationery closet and working out how to access Facebook through the school’s firewall. I have no regrets.”

Steve grinned around his first bite of apple cake. “Bucky is a contemporary of mine in every sense of the word, right down to spending time on ice.”

Darcy nodded silently, she didn’t need him to cover his resurrection. There wasn’t a person in the US unaware of his revival.

“Only Bucky… he had a tougher time than me. Might explain it to you, some time. Bringing him back into the world… it ain’t easy. He misses a lot of social niceties.”

“Like telling the girl he’s just picked up that he wants to share her?”

“Like that. Yeah.” Steve had the good grace to blush a little. “His mind is scattered over decades, places. He keeps looking for things, people that remind him of who he was and sometimes he remembers what we did together when we were young…”

“Let me guess,” Darcy scanned the customers to make sure none were paying attention to their conversation, “You shared women?”

“We certainly did.”

“And?” Darcy tapped her nails on the counter.

“Do you need me to be explicit?”

“I think,” another scan of the diner before she angrily continued, “That we passed _explicit_ when you watched your friend knuckle-deep in me and didn’t say a fucking word!”

A muscle ticked at his jaw, but he forged ahead heedless of her rant. “We’d very much like to share you.”

“Yeah, I kind of picked up on that,” she picked up another mug and poured herself another coffee, her hand trembled faintly. “Do you have _any_ shame?”

“Bucky is the best man I know. He doesn’t remember it, but he is. If I gotta be bold to secure something that he _needs_ , then I will. If this is what it takes to bring him back to himself, then this is what I’ll do.”

Well, he didn’t have to make it sound like such a fucking _chore._ “I’m flattered. Probably,” Darcy was careful to keep her voice flat as she blew at her coffee.

Steve realised his slip and slid his cake away to grab at her hands, “That’s not what I… It does have to be _you_. You got… you’ve got a bit of home burning in your eyes. Just asking if we can visit.”

“And what do I get? A bad reputation and a _pearl necklace_?” Not that the idea was without its merits.

Steve apparently missed her lewd reference as he frowned slightly, “We were thinking cash, but I guess we can do jewellery.”

“Whoa, hold up. You want to _pay_ me. You know what that would make me, right?”

“Don’t say it-” Only Captain America could sound so affronted while propositioning a woman with group sex.

“ _Whore._ ”

“It makes you Darcy Lewis-”

“-gold star for getting the name right-” 

“ _Darcy_ Lewis. Poli-sci grad, with some surprising ties to alien royalty and the upper echelon of the scientific community. You put in 50 hours a week here, you live in a building that is a perfect argument for urban redevelopment and share an apartment with four other people. One of whom has three priors for drug possession and another who is the drummer for a band who embody what I am told is a delightful musical sub-genre called thrash metal. What am I missing?”

“The dryers catch on fire on a weekly basis, but other than that I think you covered all your bases. Thanks so much for shitting on my life. I really want to sex you now.”

He actually groaned in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Two obscenely attractive men wanted to pay her for sex and she was throwing a fit over it? Darcy’s principles covered telling women when their skirts were tucked into their panties, always paying her share of split bills and _never_ settling for decaf, they got a little grey when it came to downloading media and being paid for sex that she kind of wanted to have anyway.

She reached out to slide his plate of cake back in front of him, “You could find a better girl. A prettier one.”

He stroked a finger over the bumps of her knuckles, “Honey, we’d be looking for a damn long time before we even came close.”

“Maybe… maybe if you didn't pay me?”

“The money’s for your time, Darcy. Can’t say when we’ll want you, not with what we do, not with the world the way it is. But when we do, we’ll want you without having to worry about about shifts or upsetting your life. We aren’t rich, but we don’t have much by the way of living costs so the money would be fair, you can live with us or we can get you an apartment in the building. You’ll have space, time to work toward your life goals.” There was a pause as he poked his fork at the cake, “You’ll never want for sex, promise you that much.” 

“That’s a lot just to get your friend laid.”

“Bucky isn’t the only one who wants this,” he looked at her and the heat of his gaze could have evaporated her panties, “Been fighting so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a soft place to land. Give us a night, we’ll make it stick.”

Darcy didn’t doubt him, she was just a little worried that she’d end up… well, _stuck._

 

~*~

 

Three days later Darcy settled down, fully dressed, on the end of a king-sized bed and waited. Her nerves were somewhere up in the ‘awaiting execution’ area, as opposed to the far more appropriate ‘awaiting super sexytimes’ level. She agreed to, quite literally, ‘suck it and see’ in regards to Steve’s proposal. Then the klaxons had sounded and she’d heard nothing for days. In the silence that followed she’d made peace with her choice, if the world was going to end (again) then it could end with her having full carnal knowledge of Steve Rogers and James Barnes.

On the final day of hostilities Darcy had loitered at the diner long after her shift, watching the news feeds quieten down as the violence uptown abated. In her pocket her phone had vibrated with a message, a politely worded summons from Steve. Once the Avengers disassembled, Darcy Lewis had to step up to the plate.

She’d taken her time, swung past her apartment to shower, pick out a nice dress, a sweet red and white floral number that - God, was she trying too hard? If money was going to come into it, wasn’t she _meant_ to try? She’d let herself into their apartment, aided by a folio of pass codes and identification cards that had been waiting for her at reception. Darcy was a fan of the ‘begin as you mean to go on’ approach, so she’d headed for the nearest bedroom, toed off her flats, settled onto the bed and waited. She crossed her legs beneath herself, fiddled with her phone for a few minutes, too nervous to truly focus on anything, and listened to the empty apartment. It wasn’t long before she heard the front door open, followed by a series of muffled sounds, a pause and then nothing until James - _Bucky_ \- seemed to materialise in the doorway.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes and mind tried to absorb his every detail. The Bucky that she was looking at was so very far removed from the James who had picked her up at the wine bar. He wore low-slung black combat trousers, no shoes and no shirt, as though he’d been undressing as he’d passed into the apartment. _His arm…_ Darcy had never seen anything like it, though it made sense that anyone who ran with Stark would have access to some pretty advanced cybernetics. But, _Jesus,_ that arm had a sinister and powerful look to it. The anchor plate seated deep in his shoulder and down the side of his chest had a rough and careless finish, as if whoever had patched him together had taken more care with the arm than the man. She forced herself to look away from his arm, focussing instead on the smears of blood and soot on his face.

“You’re hurt?” she asked.

“You’re here.” The mild surprise in his voice told her that Steve hadn't let Bucky in on their bargain. Nice to see the shoe on the other foot.

“Wasn’t sure she’d come,” Steve appeared at his shoulder and nudged Bucky into the room, “Didn’t want to promise you something I couldn’t deliver.”

“But she’s here,” Bucky noted with a small, uncertain nod.

“Sure am,” Darcy wiggled her fingers in a small wave.  

“For,” he swept a finger between Steve and him, “Us?”

Darcy bit her lip as she nodded. “But if you’re hurt…”

Bucky roughly wiped a hand across his face, smearing a bit of the blood. “Not mine,” he assured her. While that was probably a good thing, Darcy couldn’t help screwing up her nose.

“We’re gonna clean up, Darcy.” Steve and Bucky edged toward the ensuite, “Just… wait here?”

Like she’d go anywhere else?

She listened as the shower started, her fingers fidgeting with the bedding, then shakily smoothing it out. Maybe she’d actually died in London and everything that had happened since, especially Steve and Bucky, were just the fanciful quirks of her own afterlife? She wasn’t the sort of woman who had wildly powerful and handsome lovers, wasn’t the sort to get swept away in triple X fantasies. But there she was, waiting to be shared by hundreds of pounds of alpha male, her panties wet and her nipples pressing up against the scratchy lace of the fancy bra she’d saved for a special occasion.

Bucky was the first one to step from the bathroom, white towel sitting low on his hips, hair dripping down over his shoulders. There were a few cuts and scrapes on his face and hand, so he hadn’t been completely unscathed and it seemed only natural that Darcy would jump to her feet and reach out for him. He seemed so genuinely surprised hat she immediately dropped her hands.

“No, it’s fine,” he stuttered, making a grab for one of her hands and lifting it to his bicep. “I’m sorry.”

She was quiet as she inspected him with her hands, fingers pressing at his skin, skirting bruises and scrapes. She crossed his chest and let her fingers dwell over one jumping pec. 

“Touch it. Go on.”

If they really planned on making a habit of… whatever it is that they were doing, then yeah, she should be more comfortable with the metal arm. Her fingers traced the seam of metal and flesh, dipping below his arm and exploring how far down his chest the hard metal went. The metal was warmer there, heated by his body. She reached up to give his bicep a tentative squeeze, her fingers didn’t even stretch half way around but she found the metal pleasantly responsive, it gave a little as she flexed her hand, the plates whirring and slipping in response to her.

“Neat,” she murmured as she dropped her hand, skimmed over his chest and down to his hips. Darcy paused and watched his face for some hint of protest, but when she found none she slipped two fingers beneath the knot of his towel and flicked, catching the towel between her thumb and forefinger before it hit the floor.

She itched to look down, to acquaint herself with his more intimate parts, but she settled instead for the very obvious brush of his erect cock against the soft folds of her dress as she stepped close and lifted the towel to finish drying off his hair. Darcy was gentle as she rubbed the damp towel over his head, gentler than she would have been with her own hair, and Bucky took the opportunity to begin unhooking the small pearl buttons of her dress. It was impressive that his prosthetic could manage such a fine task and she paused what she was doing to watch his hands as he finished undoing her buttons and spread open the fabric, she felt the pull on her shoulders and tossed aside the towel so that Bucky could drag the dress down her arms, fingers kneading at her hips until she dropped her own hands and helped him wiggled the fabric down over the curve of her arse. It dropped to the floor and she kicked it toward the towel.

In the mirror over Bucky’s shoulder she caught her own eye and winced a little at how wanton she looked, pressing herself against a buff naked guy while wearing only a maroon lace thong and bra. Still, if she was there to play a part she might as well get into the role, right? Darcy sank down to her knees, dragging her breasts over his chest as she went. She came to settle on her knees, neck arched a little as she tilted her head back to admire his cock. It was a handsome thing - as dicks went - thick, uncut and firmly aroused. She didn’t hesitate when she took him in hand, she was firm and confident. That was probably the only good thing that had come out of her senior year boyfriend being uncircumcised, it meant she knew what was up when she was going down.

Darcy pumped her fist, enjoying the silken slip of skin over the length of his cock as she shifted on her knees and leaned in. Her tongue flicked out as she pulled back his foreskin, she circled the shining pink head of his cock and carefully pressed the tip of her tongue against the bead of moisture welling at his slit. There was a soft noise as Steve left the bathroom, but Darcy didn't pay him any attention. Instead she let Bucky wind her hair in his hands, lifting and gently pulling it so that he could watch as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his dick. He hissed, his hips pumping against her hands and mouth, but no more than she could take. Darcy relished the way he filled her mouth, tightened her fist around the base of him as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked hard.

Behind her, Steve dropped to his knees, ran a single finger down and up her spine before slipping it between her skin and her bra strap. “Like this,” he murmured as his fingers worked at undoing her bra.

Darcy didn’t answer.

She felt the lace release, let Steve press it forward and took her hands of Bucky briefly as he removed it fully. Calloused fingers slipped over her ribs and up to cup her breasts, Darcy had to give credit where it was due, Steve was the only guy who’d ever even come close to being able to hold her ‘bounty’ in his hands. Not only that, but he was rather adept at the holding as he rolled his palms and plucked at her nipples. She moaned appreciatively around Bucky’s cock and he tugged a little more insistently at her hair.

Darcy slipped back, stroking as she moved, until her tongue swirled around the sensitive head of Bucky’s dick. She slipped his foreskin forward so that her tongue could dart beneath it, then caught it between her tongue and upper lip, rolling and sucking at it.

“Darcy, _fu-”_

“Have a little mercy,” Steve’s voice was soft and teasing in her ear and his hands slipped down over her stomach, fingers wiggling into her underwear, searching and learning as they moved. “Mmmm, bare. Some things just got better and better while I was asleep, right Buck?”

Only Bucky was having none of Steve’s sexy banter. He was weak at the knees, hands wound in Darcy’s hair as if he could control her oral efforts that way. “Not like this,” he managed to grind out.

Darcy sat back on her heels with a wet smack of the lips as she released Bucky, she reached up to toy with his sac. “Not like what?” she asked as she parted her knees wider so that Steve could slip his fingers a little lower.

Bucky’s eyes were dark as he swiped his thumb over her lower lip, “M’gonna come in you the first time.”

His words had her bouncing on her knees, rubbing herself a little more firmly against Steve’s fingers. He nipped at her shoulder as he drew his hand from between her legs and wrapped his arm about her waist, standing with her body securely plastered against his own and backing up to the bed. There was a lot of shuffling and a little desperation as Steve scooted back up along the bed until his shoulder hit the pillows. He settled in with Darcy’s back against his chest, her hips between his legs. Bucky crawled up the bed, following the both of them as his hands reached out to hook her panties and draw them down her legs.

There was a moment where her brain threw up the absurd idea that, if she let them, she could be getting paid for doing this.

_Nice work, if you can get it._

She didn’t get a whole lot of time to be amused, not when Steve was running his hands over her hips and down her thighs, tucking his fingers in behind her knees and pulling them up to her chest, spreading her for Bucky. She had to admire the near military precision with which they coordinated their efforts. Steve reached down, fingers framing her pussy as he spread her, his thumb coasting back and forward over her clit. “She’s so wet, Buck. You’re welcome.”

“Punk.” Bucky growled as he stretched out on top her her, his impressive frame pressing her back up against Steve. She could feel the heated shaft of Steve’s cock pressed up against the small of her back, felt the strength of his chest and arms bracketing her as Bucky closed her in. He didn’t waste time pressing his cock into her, didn’t need to. She was so wet - had been for the better part of a week - that she could only sigh with relief as her pussy took him deep and her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Steve told her that she had home in her eyes and that made so much more sense as she welcomed the press of Bucky’s hips against her own and felt Steve’s frantic bucking against her arse and back. She hooked her knee high up against Bucky, tucking it beneath his arm while Steve held her other knee wide and high with one hand as his other tended faithfully to her clit, trapped between Bucky and her. Her hips ached as they began to slowly fuck, but she wouldn’t shift or close herself off to him for anything in the world. 

Darcy tilted her head back, seeking out a hot, rough kiss from Steve. He obliged with a groan as he pumped and circled his hips beneath her, unable to touch himself but finding the right sort of friction anyway.

“Need to come, Doll,” Bucky panted but Darcy was quick to dig her fingers into his shoulder.

“Just… give me a… just a second. _Please._ ” She hated the pleading tone of her voice, but she wouldn't give away the thin, fragile threads of pleasure that had started to wind around each other, low between her hips. She fought for her climax, _championed_ it. “Steve… harder.”

Steve rubbed against her clit with just a fraction more pressure as Bucky set his mouth with grim determination and worked a little harder for her. Just those scant moments of extra effort were all it took to have her scoring her short nails across Bucky’s shoulders as her thighs twitched and her pussy drew tight around him. “Now,” she moaned to Bucky.

He dropped his mouth into the curve of her neck, lips sealing around her skin as he came muffling a wordless cry against her. Darcy savoured his lazy strokes, short and slow, as he pulsed inside of her. Behind her, Steve’s ragged breaths and a thick, slick heat at the small of her back told her that he’d come right along with them.

They might have stayed like that, packed tight against each other, for a damn long while, but Darcy felt the first pangs of a cramp in one hip so she lengthened and wriggled one leg until Bucky leaned aside. His hip came to rest against Steve’s knee as he dropped a cheek between her breasts and gently brought his heavy prosthetic to rest over her stomach.

“Okay?” he asked as he shifted his arm, letting her get comfortable with the weight of it. It was far heavier than a normal arm, but nothing she couldn’t take.

“Fine,” she answered as she pressed her knees together and draped her own arm over his.

“Made a mess,” Steve apologised as he took a breath and Darcy felt the skin of his abdomen bond against her back, his come a sticky film between them.

“Don’t sweat it,” she sighed, exhausted. She’d never been one to shy away from the leavings of a good lay.

They fell into a comfortable silence then, mid-morning sun shooting through the open blinds and warming their naked bodies. Bucky entertained himself as he nipped and growled playfully at the swell of Darcy’s breast, Darcy marvelled at the change in him. He seemed younger somehow, at ease. Steve just burrowed his face in her hair, breathing deeply as he traced mystery patterns along the tops of her shoulders.

Bucky paused in his lazy play as he looked up at her and asked, “Gonna hang around, kid?”

Darcy shrugged gently as she reached out to wind a section of Bucky’s hair around her finger. 

“We’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> I... am sorry?
> 
> But not really.
> 
> Unbeta'd because I suck and thanks to Merideath for answering the tough questions. About genitals.


End file.
